


Nothingness

by The_Archangel_of_Zeref



Category: Voltron Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Other, depression and bipolar disorder possibly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 04:52:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12763578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Archangel_of_Zeref/pseuds/The_Archangel_of_Zeref
Summary: Where Lotor is faced with a certain fate. All he can consider is how far he's fallen.





	Nothingness

He already got accustomed to the pinching air. Hair sprawled out, knees tucked in, cheeks still wet with tears. He hadn’t moved an inch since being thrown in, like a bag of trash. Blinking, he took in the deep violet floor, a cool metal that offered no sanction to his aching body. Bars, the same color as the floors, promised no escape - a cage to lick his wounds before slaughter. 

Even so, in almost certain death, the young man smiled slightly. At least they escaped. Delayed their own possible demise. Of course, a hefty price was paid. He sniffed, blinking back the last of his tears; enough was enough, he wouldn’t let Zarkon, see how far he fell. 

Any semblance of sanity had long been drowned in a sea of despair. Instead, a darkness manifested in its place and consumed his soul whole. Thoughts, previously he would have considered inconceivable, seemed as appealing as dessert. The process in itself was slow, creeping in so quietly, like a cat, that by the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. By then, all reality shattered around him; he fell into a spiral of insanity, one moment gitty, the next wallowing in all of hopelessness. 

However, there was one benefit. Even as they shoved him on board, shackling all his limbs, as his previous allies’ cries echoed in the chamber, he couldn’t quite wipe the smile off his face. Even as the guard slapped him, berating him for his smirk, he felt absolutely nothing: it was all surreal, like floating in nothing while watching a rather sad film. 

His trail of thoughts were disrupted by the hotness of his nose and the taste of salty tears; 

“Do you really feel nothing?” 

They dragged him through the hallways one last time. His head hung low, ears picking up the loud jeers on the other end. Of course, he would be sentenced to die in the most pitiable way conceived: death by spectacle. 

And he wouldn’t get to fight.


End file.
